


The Demon and the Banshee

by Charshee



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Dark, F/M, Lydia/Nogitsune, Nogitsune Stiles, Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Shameless Smut, non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-11 00:36:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5607013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charshee/pseuds/Charshee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The darkness within him wants to play. With her, specifically.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to move this fic here too, for more people to enjoy.  
> Very much a smut-fic, some dark stuff and dubious consent, you have been warned!

The darkness fed his taste for her. The thing that lurked within him wanted nothing more than to sink it's teeth into her yielding flesh. The sudden bouts of lust at the very sight of her were not unusual, but he'd never had to physically stop himself from slamming her against the nearest wall and fucking her into oblivion before this thing became a part of him. Though he'd Imagingined it enough. She didn't seem to suspect his torrid thoughts, however, and was often to be found in his vicinity since his trip to the afterlife. This night their sanctuary from the world was her bedroom, where they sat surrounded by calculus textbooks. The numbers no longer made sense to Stiles, since Lydia had crossed her legs in such away that he got a glimpse of lace between her sweet thighs.

The wickedness squatting on his soul lifted it's head, eyes sparked like a predator spotting it's prey. Silently Stiles wrestled with the thing, pressing his palms to his eyes until he saw spots. It was a losing battle, and he cursed his own weakness. She swung her legs off the bed and walked over to the window. Rain hit it like bullets and the world was hidden by the night and a howling storm. She was momentarily silhouetted as a flash of lightning filled the room, and in that moment he moved at an inhuman speed, coming to stand behind her.

"Lydia, I think we're done studying."

"I think you're right." She giggled, surprised at his quickness in joining her. She hadn't noticed the edge to his voice. A dark tone that hadn't been there before.

Next thing she knew she was clasped against his chest, arms pinned to her sides, with his hand clamped down over her mouth. She squirmed against him, but his hold was firm.

"Relax." He whispered, his lips at her ear. "I'm not going to hurt you. But if you scream I will punish you. Understand?" She nodded, wide-eyed and clearly confused. He moved his hand from her mouth.

"What the hell, Stiles!" She exclaimed as soon as she was able, attempting to wriggle out of his unyielding hold. "Let me go! This isn't funny!"  
He didn't answer, simply brushed her hair over her shoulder, giving himself access to her slim white neck. The monster inside groaned. He leaned in, and pressed his lips into the hollow beneath her ear.

"I'm not trying to be funny." She heard it this time, the growl beneath his words, as his hot breath hit her skin and she felt herself shudder involuntarily. She suddenly became acutely aware of his form pressed hard against her own.

"Wh-whaat the fuck do you think you're doing then?" She'd tried to sound defiant, but her voice cracked when his tongue flicked against her skin. A fire began to spark into life somewhere beneath her naval. His hand snaked it's way down the side of her body, coming to rest just bellow her hip, his fingertips dangerously close to her centre which tingled with misguided anticipation in response.

"Hmm... I'm hurt, Lydia. Can't you tell what I'm doing?" She blushed at his words, something she hadn't been made to do for years. His fingers traveled further south, coming to rest at he hem of her little dress. He caught her ear between his teeth, and she let out a whimper. He chuckled at her reaction, a dark, filthy sound that made her sure that her knees had evaporated and that she was soon to crumple to the carpet. He held her up and purred,

"If you want to play, sweetheart, we can play. But you'll be doing things my way. If you want me to stop, tell me, but know you'll be missing out." He already knew the answer, and wasn't surprised when she made no protest, though she was shocked at her own eagerness to continue. A part of her begged herself to realise just how un-Stiles he was being, but that part was stifled as his fingertips began teasing at the skin just beneath the hem of her dress. Her legs opened by an inch, a silent beg that he give her inner thighs the same treatment. He gave into her desires for a moment, going so far as to hook his finger under the elastic of her underwear. She made a whimper like nothing he'd heard before and he fought the urge to tear them off and push himself into her right then. But he fought it, the demon inside enjoyed anticipation as much as Stiles himself did.

"Did you think I'd indulge you so quickly?" He muttered, abandoning her thighs and finding his way to the zipper at the back of her dress. Trusting that she would not run, and he could move faster anyway, he let her go, tugging down the dresses zip as he did so. He made quick work of the garment. Soon it pooled around her feet, leaving her self conscious and exposed. She crossed her arms over her chest, her attempt at modesty only making her all the more vulnerable a plaything in the wicked thing's eyes.

He circled her like a jungle cat, inexplicable shyness causing her to lower her eyes to the floor, unable to meet his hungry gaze. She could hear the blood rushing in her head, and feel the wetness spreading between her legs. Lydia didn't know why she was letting this happen to her, she only knew that it felt too good to stop. Too good to resist.


	2. Chapter 2

He disappeared somewhere behind her, some part of her told her not to move, but she could just see his reflection in her mirror. He was rooting around in her closet, but she couldn't see what he chose. His breath was all of a sudden on he back of her neck, he pushed her hair aside and began tracing a line from her hair line with his fingertip. She visibly shivered, and he laughed as his finger came to a halt between her shoulder blades. Fox's smirk in place, he whispered to her,

"Close your eyes, and put your hands in front of you, crossed at the wrist." She did as instructed, still unable to comprehend her inability to break the spell. It had been a while since she'd been alone with a boy like this, but there was something more to it. Something in the air, a heady blanket of lust that she had so unexpectedly found herself smothered by. And there was him. The lithe way he had moved around her, the electricity that was sparking through his fingertips and into her skin, that dark new note to his being that made her feel more vulnerable than she ever had. He was no longer behind her, and she felt something cool and smooth wrap around her wrists a few times, then a sharp tug.

"Open." He stood before her, her wrists were tied with her thin black belt, and she had to admit she didn't mind it as much as she'd thought she would. In fact it stoked the fire within her so much so that she had to bite back an unexpected moan of approval. Her reaction did not go unnoticed, and he grinned at her. The kitsune cupped her chin and lifted her face to his, finally capturing her lips in a kiss that made her head swim, despite it's gentleness.

"We knew you'd be dirty, darling." He murmured to her, and she rose to his words, seeking another taste of his lips, which he gave her gladly. This kiss was deeper, he twisted his fingers through her hair and sought her tongue with his. For a moment he was more man than monster, the feeling of her harmonizing with his own humanity. But the moment was snatched away by the darkness, which did not intend on losing control of it's host again. He had already planned this out, the demon loved having such a quick-thinking mind at it's disposal. As he kissed her he pulled from his back pocket a scarf he'd taken from her closet, and tied it around the belt.

"Now," he said, "close them." Lydia shut her eyes again, and found herself being led to what she judged to be roughly the centre of the room. She heard him climb onto her bed, and her arms were raised above her. She peeked upwards, and felt a flutter of fear. He'd found the hoop in the ceiling from which a frilly pink bed curtain had hung in her youth. The scarf he had tightly tied through it, leaving her strung up and at his mercy.

"I thought I'd told you to close your eyes." He said, hopping off the bed and stepping back to admire his handy work.

"Stiles, I-" She began, but he tutted at her.

"Are you afraid? I'm sure you are. I told you that you needn't be. Don't you trust us? Well, I know you trust him. You mustn't trust me. But something tells me you don't mind that so much. But I won't hurt you, not really."

"Stiles, what are you talking about?!"

He just laughed, both of them noticing that despite her confusion she made no attempt to fight her bonds. It wasn't as if she had anyone to rescue her if this did go sour. Her mother was on a three day spa retreat and she had the house to herself for the rest of the week. But this was, after all, Stiles, wasn't it? Sweet, generous, Stiles who worshiped the ground she walked upon. Though this certainly wasn't the kind of behaviour she expected of him. He left the room, humming to himself as if this were the most normal thing in the world. She heard him go down the stairs, and into the kitchen.

When he was out of sight she tested the ties, but they were solid. She wondered if there was a boy scout patch for this kind of knotting, and had to fight the hysterical urge to giggle at how odd the entire situation was. She had had no idea how very easily she could be turned on until this night. He hadn't even really touched her yet and her pulse was racing, her face flushed. And this was Stiles, as in: Definitely a virgin Stiles. Even so, she couldn't help but wait for his arrival with bated breath.

He re-entered without the hum, and when she saw him she gasped. He twirled a knife between his fingers, one of the ornate, and razor sharp, cooking knives her mother had gotten as a "40th" birthday gift about three years after she actually turned 40.  
"No! Stiles, no. What the hell is that for!" Lydia panicked, pulling at the scarf desperately. He slid the knife into his back pocket and caught her in his arms, holding her still.

"Hush." He said, pressing his finger to her lips, "I told you I'm not going to hurt you, he wouldn't let me anyway, as much as I may like to. But if you don't stay very fucking still I may not be as precise as you'd like. Now, don't move." The last he growled between gritted teeth, and she was still. He kept an arm around her, his hand on her backside, retrieving the knife with the other. She couldn't help but whimper when he oh so carefully touched the tip to the hollow of her throat, but he trailed it down between her breasts, halting at her bra. She wasn't expecting him to suddenly slip the blade beneath it and slice it apart.

Both Kitsune and human grinned at the sight of her breasts bouncing free of their coverings, and he dropped the knife, so as to take them in his hands. She moaned at the contact, pushing her chest against his palms.

"Sweet, sweet human girls." The fox whispered to himself, running his fingertips around her hardening nipples. "Did you ever wonder how often he imagines this? Well, perhaps not quite as fun as this. I have added my own personal flair, don't you think?" He said out loud, shocking her by leaning in to flick his tongue over her nipple. She cried out at the wet heat against her sensitive peak. He pulled away almost immediately, and began rubbing his thumbs over both, almost roughly. She tried to squirm away from him, so sensitive to his touch that the pleasure approached pain. He was mercilessly unrelenting however, her moans only driving him on. "Don't think I'll stop when you think it's too much, gorgeous. I'll stop when I am done. I'll stop when I've made you come so many times you can't see straight. I'll stop when I know you'll never be able to be touched again without remembering me. I'll stop when I am satisfied." She wasn't sure what turned her on more, his course words or the rough calluses on his hands as they rubbed over her soft skin.


	3. Chapter 3

Lydia's core ached with need. The more desperate he made her, the emptier she felt, and his assault of pleasure on her breasts was showing no signs of stopping. She squirmed to no effect, his hands were on her hips and felt as if they were made of diamond in their solidity. The feeling was too great, an intoxicating cocktail of pleasure and pain, she'd never had anyone make her feel so absolutely desperate. He nipped his way down each breast in turn, taking her nipples between his sharp teeth and flicking his tongue over each pink peak. It hurt just enough to make her head spin, and yet she found herself wanting more. As his mouth was busy his hands got to work introducing themselves to her backside. She bucked her hips forwards as he squeezed her buttocks, the proximity to her soaked centre making her whimper.

"Poor little thing," he cooed, stepping away from her completely. She cried out at the loss of him, and again that dirty laugh was snarled at her. "I thought it was too much for you? Weren't you doing your very best to get away from me just moments ago? Perhaps you don't know what you want quite as well as you think? We'll show you. I'll show him. You'll thank me for it, I can tell by the way you're begging now." And she was, whispering pleas for him to touch her again, promising all manner of favours in return for his hands on her body.

Within him raged a battle of dominance, the essence that was Stiles and the creature that merely stole his tongue to speak and his hands to do the unspeakable. The fox was feeding off her desperation and confusion at her own lust, growing only stronger. It caught the glint of the knife on the carpet, and made a show of wrapping each finger around the handle before he picked it up. She was a little less wary this time, but he didn't intend on letting her settle completely. So he held the blade as he leaned in to kiss her again. Loving the squeal she emitted against his lips as he pressed the cold metal of the side of the blade against her breast.

Lydia couldn't deny the craving this caused, though she fought with her own shame in admitting it, even to herself. And when he sliced through each bra strap she found her lust speaking for her, pushing him on,

"You owe me $50 for a new bra." This was more herself. Sharp tongued Lydia with the glittering wit, though she had to admit that it wasn't her best line. Her mind was clouded with need. This time when he laughed it was almost human, and he kissed her again with more warmth than he had before. But when he pulled back his eyes were hardened once again.

"I like them better without." The Kitsune hissed, holding the knife between his teeth and pinching both her nipples so hard she squealed at him to stop. He obliged her only for the pleasure of stepping back She was beautiful like this, flushed and panting. Her ample chest heaved with every breath, and her hair flowed like water over that lily white skin. The monster wanted to mark and scratch and bruise her. It wanted to make sure she knew she was his. But troublesome Stiles would not allow the most twisted of the demon's ideas to come to pass. Weak as he was the protective streak that Lydia brought out in him kept the Kitsune from his true nature. The fox knew not to push him, any struggle between the two risked the scale being pushed too far in Stiles's favour.

The blade was back against her skin, he circled her with it, the tip of the metal tracing a path over her stomach, her hips, and across her back. She shook with anticipation, and fear, lifting herself onto her toes at the sensation. Perhaps there was darkness in her, too. Or simply a portion of her soul that hungered for it. The tip of the knife nudged at the waistband of her underwear. Slowly he slipped them down, watching the material slide over the smooth curve of her arse. He relished the sight, and without warning his hand came down swift and sharp across her backside. She yelped in shock more than pain, heat radiating from where his palm had landed, sending a tingle across her most intimate place.

"Oh God" she groaned, ready to begin begging for release.

"Only us." He replied, spanking her thrice more for good measure. Her thighs shook and the raw need was overwhelming. None of this made sense to her, but some how she didn't need it to. Lydia's brain, which so needed to logically work through each moment of her existence, was strangely stilled under his hands. Her underwear fell to the floor, and a drop of the honey between her legs ran past the freckle on her inner thigh. He saw it, and caught it on his finger. He licked the drop from his finger and grabbed her by the hair, spinning her around to face him. He kissed her hard, and she tasted herself on his tongue. Her moan was intense and filled with longing, the taste lingering after he pulled away from her.

He knelt before her, dropping the knife beside him, and she blushed at his proximity to her core. A hand on each hip he pulled her towards him, and pressed his lips to her stomach, then to each thigh. Without warning he spread her legs, and grinned up at her when he saw just how desperate he had made her. He delicately spread her folds with his fingers, his touch so slow and light that it only frustrated her further. When he flicked the tip of his tongue over her now revealed and vulnerable clit she let out a whimper of lust so beautiful he did it twice more just to listen to the sweet music again.


	4. Chapter 4

He'd been holding her on the edge with gentle flicks of his tongue for at least twenty minutes and she wasn't sure she could handle it any longer. He only paused to mutter praise at her reactions, and to mock Lydia's constant pleading for release.  
"You'll lose your voice if you make any more noise, and what's a banshee without her scream?" He growled, before nipping hard at the apex of her thighs. She squeaked so he did it again to the other. He hated himself for this, Stiles struggling against the monster until he almost managed to tear a scream from his own lips, but the wickedness muffled him with it's laughter.

"Leave her alone." Stiles begged the beast, as it stroked Lydia's skin with his fingertips.

Oh but Stiles, don't you want to know what she feels like? I'm inside your head, you know. I've seen all the fantasies. Now look at me, look at how charitable I'm being. Giving a dying boy the girl of his dreams, if only for a night. Or two. Didn't she say she had the house? Hmm. There's hours of fun to be had! You should be grateful. The Kitsune growled, dipping a finger between her wet folds and pausing at her entrance. She bucked her hips and moaned breathlessly. What a sweet sound. Don't you just crave it? Doesn't it just make you want to claim her?

"Not like this. She doesn't know it's not me. It's wrong."

She's not exactly complaining, is she, Stiles? In fact, let's make her beg for it. His fingertip began circling her entrance, and he pressed his lips to her centre. She cried out, lifting her hips as if in rapture, seeking the heat of his mouth. He lapped at her clit, painfully slowly. It was far too little sensation for how desperate she was and she thought she might go mad with longing. His finger slipped inside her, and she was acutely aware of the sensation. Only an inch inside he stopped, causing her to whimper for more, beg for just another inch, just a little deeper. He withdrew it with a snort of amusement at her despondent groan.

"I am oh so glad it was you, Lydia." He whispered, as she bit her lip, pushing herself into his palm. Each word only lending to the intensity of his torture. "I love this part of human form. You were such a huge part of his consciousness. Impossible to ignore. I loved the fantasies best. All the times he imagined this. I doubt in his day dreams you were quite this desperate. Or filthy. Surely this isn't his flawless Lydia? It can't be. He respects you far to much to treat you the way I intend on treating you, sweetheart."

She was sure she'd melt at that line. His voice was electric. Thrumming down her spine and arching her body towards him. A hand crept up her torso, cupping her heavy breast and pinching her nipple between his fingers. She moaned in what felt like perfect agony. Blissful pain. She hated herself for it, and yet was sure she'd drop dead if he stopped. A wicked part of her soul met with the monster within him, and gave her over to his hunger.

"Not yet, gorgeous." He muttered, standing up to face her. He tugged his shirt up and over his head, tossing it to the side and smirking at her. She ran her eyes over him as hungrily as he had her, searching for her favourite symbols of masculinity. Seeking out edges and angles, following his jawline, moaning over the squared shoulders, all comforted by the gentler slope of his pecs. Of course he was on the slimmer side, and she found herself loving it. He was wiry, toned and slender. There was a dark happy trail she longed to run her fingers through, and a subtle shadow of an Adonis belt was making her beg to see more. Lydia wanted to follow the grooves with her tongue, wanted to watch him buck his hips and offer himself to her.

"Oh god you bastard." She sighed, reserving herself to the delicious suffering. He spun her around and gave her rear end a sharp smack. She let out an outraged cry, even as the heat his hand left behind spread between her legs, creeping down to her knees and making them tremble. Her reaction did not go unnoticed, he grabbed a handful of her hair roughly, and pulled her into his chest, nuzzling into her neck.

"Little princess likes it rough then, who knew." He whispered into her ear, and within himself muttering to the soul he kept caged: "Don't be disappointed that she's not some sort of pure and innocent angel, they all have kinks, eh?"

"I never thought she was innocent, I don't care. Leave her be. Just leave her." Stiles still struggled for control, despite the demons strength and the intoxicating scent of her perfumed curls.

"If she wanted me gone she'd have told me to go."

"She's scared of you."

"Who isn't? Don't worry Stiles. It's not her I'm after. I just want to enjoy her for a little while." His hands released her, finding the button of his jeans and releasing it with a sort of relish. She felt the suspense rising with the sound of his zipper and on impulse arched her back so as to press herself against the bulge in his newly revealed boxers. She thought she may lose it at any moment, wanton as she was. His hand stroked down her back, traveled the curve of her buttock, and settled between her legs, opening her pink folds to him. He leant back, admired the view, and pulled his member from his underwear. Circling it with his long fingers he positioned himself at her soaked entrance and rested his tip there. She whimpered and bent her head to the floor, in response he grabbed another handful of her hair and yanked her head back, and pointed to the mirror on the wall facing her.

"You watch. Don't you dare close your eyes. You watch me fuck you."

Lydia let out a cry of rapture, legs shaking as he pushed an inch into her, muttering a mix of compliments and curses as he did so.


	5. Chapter 5

  
"I hate you."

_Sure you do, Stiles. But she doesn't._

"You're sick. You're sick and disgusting and the moment I get the chance I am going to end it for both of us."

_You really think it'll be that easy, Stiles? You really think I'll just let you take control? I'd sooner slit her throat, and you don't want that, do you? So you sit tight and you feel every empty second of it. I suppose she should hate me. Or you, for being so weak, and so unable to stop me. But I haven't played a fair game here. That's not my style of play. She should be begging me to stop, if she were in her right mind. But humans are so full of hot, sweet emotion, all those hormones. You win over the body and you'll soon win over the head. I've only got you to thank for this lovely night. You did all the work, your form is held so dear in her heart, you loved and loved and now I get to reap the rewards._

He gave her another inch, she lifted onto her toes and let out a low groan of surrender, begging hopelessly.

_Of course, you mustn't blame the poor thing. It's not just her own deep seeded issues and twisted sexual drives that win her over, I've added a little magick of my own in there. Fed her dark side, heightened her senses. We all know you didn't do so well with the ladies before me, I've been working hard for you Stiles._

"Not like this. You can't just control people."

_That is where you are wrong, so very wrong, Stiles. This is what I do. This is what I am. I am a predator, you are my prey. She is nothing but a meal. Feeding a gnawing hunger. I've had the form of kings, with all the bodies I could devour at my disposal. Your pathetic life has left me starving. And you let her alone with you. You did this. I am going to break her, and after you're gone I am going to keep her. How do you like my plan, Stiles? I am going to rob her of everything and keep her as my own and there is nothing you can do about it._

Stiles shrunk away from the thoughts in his own head, cowering in the back of his own mind. The demon had other ideas, the surge of pain from his hostage was invigorating for the creature. He thrust his hips forwards, yanked her head back, and allowed her yelp to wash over his ears. She shook with bliss at being filled at last, it mixed with his emotional intoxication and left her burning.

He didn't give her long to adjust before leaving her empty, then pushing his length into her again. The shock of each thrust left her teetering on the edge, her mind took a moment to register the hard and hot climax that was shaking her to the bone. He was relentless, she was pushed harder as his pace only sped, always withdrawing so completely that she had a moment to miss it before it was again moving into her. So close, so close to a second oblivion so soon after the first, she felt her muscles tighten this time, and was acutely aware of every moment. Not even a second from release he moved away from her completely, leaving her slumped over, hands pulled upwards, cursing and screaming for her lost moment of toxic pleasure. Every drop of her desperation the monster gladly downed. Deepening his spell's roots in her mind with this new power.

_The more she gets, the more she wants. Perfect. Exactly what you need in a good fuck. And she is. Tight little thing._

"Shut up! SHUT UP!" Stiles screamed inside his head, pounding on the walls of his mind.

He walked around her, and picked her up from her slump.

"Did I say you could relax? We're not done here." He lifted her up, pulling her legs around his waist. Lydia wasn't ready when he pushed himself into her, far deeper at this angle. Hands beneath her thighs for leverage he went a little slower this time. Each second felt drawn out to her, every nerve on fire. It didn't take him long to get her back to the edge, but he was careful to keep her there, watching her face as it contorted in pleasure and agony.

"Harder, please!" She found her voice, and the wicked thing complied. The way he pounded into her had her screaming in seconds. She was there and the way she was tightening around his cock had him right there with her. It was as if the air was sucked from the room. The positive surge of energy produced in their climax was toxic to the nogitsune, it shied away to some deep crevice of his being, and rested amongst the haunted memories of the mother he'd lost.

Shaky as Stile's was he held her up as she came down from her high, and was quick to release her hands when she could stand. He filled the air with apologies as he helped her to her bed, and cursed himself as he re-dressed. His eye caught the glint of the knife on the carpet, the urge to drive it into his own chest almost overwhelming him. But the demons words of warning were stronger still, and he distracted himself by searching through Lydia's closet for a nightdress. He chose the most modest one he could find, scared that any moment the creature would return at full strength and be tempted to go for her again. She groaned as he sat her up to slip the dress over her head.

"Stiles." She murmured, and he shushed her, tucking her beneath layers of blankets. But she was persistent, tugging at his shirt until he reluctantly slipped into bed with her. "Don't blame yourself, Stiles. I'm not angry. I know it's not.. not.. you know... you..." She was half asleep, murmuring into his shoulder as she slipped deeper into unconsciousness.

"No, you're delusional. I'm so sorry. You can be angry when you wake up." Her reply was inaudible, but the way she nuzzled into him made his heart warm for a moment. She did look so beautiful like this, messy and still a little flushed.

_Enjoy it while you can, neither of you are leaving. I'm going to have my fun, Stiles. Or she suffers the consequences._


	6. Chapter 6

  
It was back by the time he awoke, at some point in his dreams someone had slipped a bag over his head and bound him into a helpless witness. The glow she'd brought, as he'd watch her fall asleep, was fading fast. The thing smirked as it slid out of bed, careful not to wake her. She didn't stir as he rolled her onto her stomach, his hold over her mind hadn't yet lifted. He belted her ankles tight together, and cuffed her wrists behind her back with another. She breathed heavily, her survival instinct doing it's best to fight his magic. He traced lazy fingers up and down her bare back, skimming barely over the rise of her backside, making her mutter in her sleep as his fingertips found the back of her thighs.

"God, not again. Don't do this again. Please."

_Tell you what, Stiles, I'll leave it up to her shall I?_

He knelt over her tied calves, cupped her backside in his hands, and squeezed the flesh hard; her eyes flew open when he landed a sharp, stinging smack on the right cheek.

"Owww-!" He grabbed at her waist, pulling her up against him, he clasped a hand over her mouth and pulled her head back with a fistful of hair in the other.

"Hush little Banshee." He purred, bucking his hips and grinning at her muffled moan as the rough denim rubbed against her center. "No complaints, we have a deal, remember? I could still change my mind... Still end you. So you'll speak when spoken to."

Lydia's cheeks burned with the embarrassment of taking such a demeaning command on the chin, but she would not die over her pride being bruised, and she would not leave Stiles with the memory of his body being used to murder her.

"Do you understand me?" He growled, removing his hand from her mouth and moving it to her shoulder instead. He pulled her back up against his torso and buried his face in her hair, groaning in a way that was so unapologetically obscene that she could only whimper in response. That noise had been full of all the terrible delights he intended on putting her through, and the anticipation had already begun thrumming over her sensitive skin.

"I'll take that as a yes." He laughed, as he began stroking his fingers up and down her stomach, circling her breasts, and teasing the skin of her inner thigh. She shook, she whimpered, when his fingertips whispered over the skin either side of her warm core she bucked her hips violently. This caused his finger to slip against her clit far sooner than he'd intended, she cried out a curse and he let her go from his grip. He laughed menacingly as he watched her squirm on her stomach, blocked from rolling over by his trapping her legs between his. "Big mistake sweetheart! Now we've got to punish you. Poor little thing. Now, to shut you up..." He chuckled when he found a headscarf he could successfully gag her with, and more so as she fought against it. His strength won out in the end, and he began to stoke the tender skin between her thighs and her sensitive centre. She whined and squirmed, not expecting the harsh smack of his palm on her arse, and being shocked into pulling her knees beneath herself when it landed. It was a mistake, the next (far softer, but no less shocking) slap landed on her newly exposed core. He licked her juice from his palm as she squealed in protest.

_Did you feel that, Stiles? Did you feel how soaked she is for me? How ready? Doesn't she just disgust you? All humans are this way, Stiles. Depraved. Addicted to something._

"You're clouding her mind! She's not in control. And even if you weren't, you've not given her a choice-!"

_A CHOICE, Stiles! That's exactly what I'm going to give her. Watch. Watch your dirty little Banshee beg._

"Aren't you just a desperate little whore?" The creature whispered to her, as he freed his erection from his jeans. He held her arse up at waist height as he rubbed the head of his length up and down her dripping folds. She squirmed, moaned, made muffled noises of desperate approval, and shattering self loathing at her own lust. Her tight entrance pulsed as he pressed his tip to it, entering by an inch and pulling out the moment she tried to get him deeper. He reached beneath her, rubbing her juice onto her clit and circling it slowly. She moaned, it wasn't enough to get her off, but more than enough to drive her crazy. She was shaking when he pushed back inside, though it was so shallow she only felt emptier.

"Do you want me inside, sweetheart? Do you want me to fill you with my cock? Or should I leave you like this? All burning and so very wet."

She groaned and shook her head, it took all she had not to push herself back onto him. He slid in so slowly she thought she may cry with the delicious torture of it.

"You're such a pretty little thing. He's so torn between whether or not he loves this. I keep telling him, he'll never get the chance, so he may as well let me give you all the fun this body can offer." He caught her clit between his fingers, gently rolling the delicate bundle of nerves between his fingertips until she sobbed. His slow, pumping thrusts continued. He withdrew almost completely before pushing back in at a pace that made her want to scream. She needed to come, she needed to come until she saw stars. But he was so careful not to let her, so slow and torturous that she thought she may die before the time came.

"I'm going to take this off." He smirked, tugging the gag from her face, "now, Princess. Do you want to get up and leave, or do you want me to fuck you harder?"

She whimpered, afraid that the "right" answer, the answer she knew she should give, would not be the one to pass her lips. His pumping increased ever so slightly, his pressure on her clit rising just enough to make her clench around him.

"Fuck me!" Finally tore from her lips, unable to be held back any longer. He grinned,

"That's what I thought, Princess. Hold tight." His next thrust made her gasp, but he gave her no time to adjust before withdrawing again and shoving himself back in with enough force to make her pleasure blur with pain at the intrusion into her hungry body.


	7. Chapter 7

"Come on, Lydia. Give in to it. We know you want to." He growled, fucking her at a pace that made her clench tight around his length, fucking the fight right out of her.

She almost thought she heard her own thoughts mimicking him, as she held in the moans of pleasure just itching to escape. He withdrew from her almost completely before filling her once more, hard and mercilessly on each thrust. Her toes curled, her teeth dug into her lip until she tasted iron. She would not give him the satisfaction of body's betrayal. But he was void. He had tasted the shame her pleasure brought her, feasted on her guilt as he'd lapped at the honey between her thighs, and he wanted more. The willpower of one, blossoming Banshee would not stop his hunger. So he pulled himself from her and sat back on his heels, threatening her with torture of every kind should she move. She tested his word, shifting her hips slightly, and a sharp slap landed on the back of her thigh.

Her surprised squeal provoked him. He had told her the rules, he had made it clear what the consequences would be, so he got on all fours over her, hissing into her ear with true malice;

"Did you forget what I am? That's a mistake you really mustn't make. Did you forget it wasn't a game? Like when your darling Aiden would get those big scary claws out and run them up your fragile little thighs?" Had she not been so terrified she might have asked how he knew, not knowing that void already knew all her dirtiest secrets. "It was fun, wasn't it? That little tinge of fear, that taste of darkness? You've bitten off more than you can chew this time, Sweetheart. I'll show you what delights lurk in the shadows." He bit down on her neck, hard, making her yelp in pain. His hands wandered beneath her, finding her sore nipples and pinching them sharply. The Banshee writhed beneath the Nogitsune, whimpering as he mauled the tender flesh of her breasts with his fingers. Nails raked down her skin, leaving the flesh marked and sensitive to the touch. He leant back again, admiring the mess he's reduced her to.

He spends a while giving her backside the same rough treatment as her breasts, fingernails carving lust from her skin. Careful not to draw blood but intent on getting his message across, it hurt, particularly when he landed a smack on the scratches. It hurt, yet she found herself moaning, widening her thighs the best she could despite her bindings. The demon admired her center as she did her best to reveal it to him. Her velvety folds were glistening, he ran a feather-light finger up her slit, making her squirm whilst being sure to avoid her clit. Void scolded her, waving the finger covered with her wetness in front of her eyes.

"Tsk tsk, little Banshee. Your pretty pussy betrays you. I bet you used to think you were rational, that you could never fall prey so easily for this sort of, hm, encouragement? He wondered, you know. He wondered what secrets you hold between your thighs. I doubt he expected you to be so..." he put the finger to her lips and laughed when she licked it clean compliantly "...suggestible." He opened her centre to him, and watched in delight as a droplet of liquid lust made it's way down her thigh. He pressed his mouth to her skin there, savouring the taste of her as it spread across his tongue.

_It's been a long time since I had this much fun, Stiles. She's so confused, is the thing. Her thoughts are in utter chaos, a silly human debate between right and wrong. I just never understood why something cant be both, or neither. It's wrong, for example, for me to use your form like this. But if I do this... Lydia gasped at how strangely cool his tongue felt against her skin, it traced lightly over her core until she was shaking. ...she'd probably say it was right. You wouldn't know what to do once you had her Stiles. I'm doing you both a favour._

The human had retreated to some deep, secret part of himself. He spat curses back at the Nogitsune, wishing for his control to return. Or to hold her. Or to apologise. Or to make her beg for more- But no. That was Void's wish. To make him give into it, to tear open his own dark place and pull from it terrible things. This wasn't right. He would gladly make her squirm like this, any day, but the creature had stolen it from him. Stolen her freedom with his threats. The word "favour" made his blood boil.

_Getting a little impatient are we, Stiles? Looks like I'll need to drain her a little more to keep you in check._

Void pressed a finger into her entrance, his fingertip pressed down on her inside and she groaned in anticipation as he slowly slid it in. He found her weak spot easily, when he brushed his fingertip over it she made a noise that made his balls ache. He pumped his finger in and out of her painfully slowly, each time he brushed over her sweet-spot she'd let out a sob of desire. He stopped to lick his finger every so often, murmering to her that she tasted divine, like fear and lust and guilt. She was getting close, tightening around his finger, so he added another and picked up the pace. She cried out, sure she could not take the torture any longer. She was falling, ascending, possibly dying, and coming... Void removed his fingers.

Lydia felt tears of frustration gather in the corner of her eyes. She gasped out a pained "Fuck you!" And received another slap on the rear for it.

"Our time together is up, poor little Banshee."

The look she shot him over her shoulder should've burned his skin with it's fury.

"Oh don't look like that! I may get the urge to taste you again. If you're lucky. But for now..." He flipped her onto her back, pinched her nipples hard simply to hear her groan, and found her phone on her dressing table. "The hunter should be here soon. She's been worried about you. Rightfully so, huh little Banshee? Wonder what she'll think when she finds you like this? I wish I could stay to taste your humiliation, darling. But Stiles and I have things to attend to. See you around." He smirked at her, pulling up her window and disappearing from view. His jeep's engine didn't start, she guessed he had left it behind. Soon, however, she heard another car come to a halt in her driveway. How the hell was she going to explain this to Allison?


	8. Chapter 8

He'd apologised for days, every time they spoke, with every look he gave her. He couldn't look her in the eye no matter how many times she told him she didn't blame him. If she was being honest, she blamed herself. The others had reacted with vengeful rage against the demon, as she'd expected them to, so she made sure to leave out the details. Allison had found her sobbing, and after freeing and covering her friend it had taken an hour for her to explain what had happened. Allison had sprung into action the moment she knew, her voice clipped on the phone to Scott, telling him not to trust Stiles but leaving out why. She didn't want to repeat it in front of Lydia, and texted him the full story instead.

They couldn't know that Lydia's tears were not for any violation of her body, he'd given her a choice on that front, it was the fact that she had let him. This was what he'd wanted, of course. He'd left her on the brink because he knew what it would do to her, and she hated that it was working.

Finding him hadn't been easy, he'd been missing for hours. In the end it was Isaac that found Stiles, shivering a little ways from a reserve hiking path. They couldn't deny they recognised the pale, drawn, guilty face when they saw him. Lydia wasn't there when they'd arrived at the loft, Allison hadn't thought she was ready. Of course she wasn't there, he'd thought, how could she look at him ever again? When his body had... Had... He was hit by a wave of disgust at himself, and more so when he felt desire stirring deep in his belly at the memory of her face contorted with pleasure. She had enjoyed it, Void had made sure he'd tasted at least a little of her bliss. It wasn't right, though. Not like that. She was worth more than being manipulated by something evil. Something dark inside had scoffed at that: _And what is she worth, Stiles? Your inexperienced intimacy? Or this?_ Another image of her, back arched and legs shaking as it pounded into her. The thing had been taunting him with such thoughts since.

***

Lydia hadn't been alone with Stiles since it happened. After she'd insisted on coming over with everyone else the next day and he'd begged her forgiveness for something he'd had no say in they'd always had a buffer between them. This time it was the sheriff, who had just collected their bowls of half-eaten spaghetti. Allison was meant to be here, but Chris had needed her for an emergency that she'd been unwilling to disclose, even to Lydia. The redhead had heard her muttering as she pulled her coat on, however, and caught "I hope he's fucking dying this time", much to the banshee's confusion. She'd been sorry to go, squeezing Lydia's hand sympathetically and whispering unnecessarily: "remember it wasn't really him, he loves you, he'd never do that to you."

Lydia had no problem separating the two. She hated that she didn't. If she could confuse it with Stiles then she could excuse her willingness to let him in. It wore his face, but it's dark cloud of possession was impossible not to recognise as something other than the sweet Stiles.

They helped the sheriff wash the dishes, Stiles being sure to avoid touching her skin when she handed him a towel to dry the forks. The tension was ever so slightly dissipating between them. Lydia was sure that Stiles knew her secret now, knew the need that had made her weak. She was sure he was judging her, but really he was being eaten alive by guilt. How could he let that thing do that? With his hands, his body? And how could he, even now, imagine that thing fucking her senseless each time he glanced her way? It was a dangerous path for his mind to wander down, darkness can find its way in through desire.

They were done with the dishes, laughing at American Idol auditions when the sheriff's phone rang. He wasn't on the night shift, but there was an emergency. He didn't have time to explain, as he rushed about the house to gather his belongings, despite Stiles questioning him desperately. He wanted to beg his father to stay, terrified of the sudden rush of anticipation that had come from somewhere within him when the sheriff had said he was leaving. There was no explanation, though, not without having to tell his father what had been done, and the man was gone before either teenager could protest.

It was the first time they'd made eye contact in a while, and they blinked at one another in silence before both deciding that they would not mention it unless the other did first. They settled back down beside one another, this time with only a bowl of popcorn between them. He wasn't feeling too confident in his ownership of himself, and couldn't help but wonder why she hadn't left the moment his father did. Lydia was wondering the same, cursing herself for the part of her that was replaying their last time alone together in her head. She tried to convince herself that it was because he needed watching, something strange was happening to him and he needed a friend, but her eyes kept darting over to watch his hands, which made her remember what they'd felt like.

Void watched the charade with amusement, humans were so predictable. Stiles was so desperate to protect her, and yet the comforting draw of her presence was enough to keep him beside her despite what had happened. And the banshee, she was the best part of this game, was slave to her own oblivion in the most beautifully tragic of ways. All heart for the boy, all warm and fire and promises, but hiding a pit of guilty desires that made void so hungry for her. The demon would have to do this slowly, the boy was on his guard, so he implanted the idea of sleep in their delicate minds and waited with a hungry smirk as their eyes blurred at the television and their heads began to feel too heavy to hold up.


	9. Chapter 9

It chased him down in his dreams. He ran with all he had but it still caught him in the end. He could feel it's influence gaining control of his body like ice in his veins. How could he have been so stupid.

_"Indeed, how could you, Stiles? More importantly, how could she? You've got the excuse of not quite being yourself, but her? Are we sure she's the genius she's painted to be? Or, perhaps, there's something more sinister at work here."_

Stiles was back in that dark place, the monster dragging its feet in the shadows, taunting him as it took over. His form on the couch stirred, a smirk in place before his eyes opened. It felt so good to be in flesh. These humans didn't know what they had. He'd had his own body so long ago, taken from him by some brat of a girl with a sword that was so very sharp it took of his head so quickly he didn't know he was dead for a moment. Now he revelled in the feeling of young, strong bodies. They didn't know their own potential, like children. Amongst them he was a God, a vicious, chaotic God who would take all he could from these fragile mortals.

He was careful not to move, she'd turned against the couch, curled in on herself as if she were cold. When he made them sleep nightmares were unavoidable, and her sweet face was troubled. He pulled her gently onto his lap, and she murmured in her sleep.

"Don't fucking touch her, don't. I'll kill you. I swear I'll kill you." Stiles yelled out, slamming his fists against the walls of his mind. The creature chuckled from the shadows,

_"Quiet down, Stiles. Or I'll make you watch me slaughter her instead."_ He ran a slender finger over her temple, pushing a lock of hair out of her face.

"Pretty little thing." He muttered, tracing her lips with his finger tip softly. _"I think I'll use her lovely mouth first. What do you think, Stiles?"_ The surge of fury that was the boys response made the fox groan. _"I'll use that anger later on."_ It taunted, and began running its fingers through the banshee's hair.

"Wakey wakey, Lydia." He whispered, her bleary eyes opening in confusion. It took her a second to adjust, and she lit up with happiness when she saw Stiles smiling down at her.

"Oh! Sorry, did I fall asleep on you?" She said, going to sit up. His hand moved to her shoulder to stop her, and she knew something was wrong. His hand was in her hair, twisting through it possessively.

"No-!" she began to yell, suddenly aware of the beast behind his eyes, but he clamped a hand over her mouth and held her nose shut between his finger and thumb. She panicked the moment her air was cut off, squirming and grabbing at his hand ineffectively.

"Hush now, hush. You like to breathe, yes? You want to breathe? Stop moving." She stopped immediately, blinking her pleas at him.

"I'm going to let you breathe, but if you fight me again I might just stop you breathing for good, got it?"

She nodded furiously, and he released his fingers. The shot of air to her system was almost enough to get her fighting again, if she weren't so terrified.

"Did you miss me, Lydia?" It asked, untangling it's hand from her hair and dancing his fingers down her side before resting lightly on her hip. She didn't move, but made a muffled curse at his mocking that made him chuckle. He removed his hand from her mouth and cupped her throat with it instead, "what was that?"

"Fuck you. I hate you."

"Sweet of you to say, darling." He began unbuttoning the front of her dress with his free hand, holding her still by the neck. She squirmed in protest, but it was useless against arms that seemed to be made of stone. "You do all this complaining and yet you still let yourself be left alone with me. Wearing such an easily removed outfit, might I add." His fingertips found the hem of her favourite thigh-highs and rubbed the cotton between his fingers, then snapped the elastic against her skin. She turned pink at his words, shame bubbling up inside. He knew. Of course he knew. He'd set the trap last time he left her with such an ache between her thighs, and she'd fallen in willingly. And if he knew...

"He sees it all, Lydia. Of course he does. I make sure of it. I will make sure of it." Her dress fell open, and he groaned like a starving man before a feast. She felt herself tense at the sound, trying to fight the chills that whispered down her spine. Her nipples had begun to chafe against the lace of her bra, she knew she'd be wet when he felt her. She couldn't hide from Void, he saw the dark within, but she didn't want Stiles to see this part of her. He was meant to be her purity, the kind of love that cleansed the soul; but now he knew the desperate craving underneath her skin. She didn't know if it was anger, or fear, or lust, but the fire that raged somewhere between her skin and her bones needed smothering or it would burn her alive. He sat her up, twisting one arm behind her back as he hooked the other free of her sleeve, then repeated the action with the other. When he stood her up she was shaking, dreading the time that her body would betray her.

"Don't move a fucking muscle." He growled in her ear, twisting her arm further up her back and tightening his grip on her neck. He stood her in the centre of the living room, and promised to be back before disappearing up stairs.


	10. Chapter 10

Lydia chewed on her bottom lip, shifting her weight from foot to foot. She'd have to pass the stairs if she went for the door, but on the armchair only a few feet away she could see her phone poking out of her purse. She heard light footsteps overhead, the odd creak of a floorboard, so she took the risk. Her hands shook almost too hard to type her passcode, and the first name she went to for help in her contact list was Stiles. She shook her head, selected Scott's number, and began typing furiously. She was only a few words from pushing send when a hand wrapped around her neck and his voice, full of malice, asked "what the hell do you think you're doing?"

She dropped her phone, and could only let out a terrified squeal in response as he pulled her arms behind her back. She felt something cold against her wrists, then a tightening, and a click.

"Spare handcuffs. I'm sure the sheriff won't mind me borrowing them." He said, tugging at the chain. "Now, because you did that..." The nogitsune kicked the phone across the floor, "...I'm going to do this." He grabbed a handful of her hair and began pulling her back towards the couch.

"I'm sorry!" She begged, fearing the worse, "please, I'm sorry." Void stayed silent, sitting down and pulling her to lay over his lap. She had an idea of what was coming, though she wasn't prepared when the first smack landed on the back of her thigh. The nogitsune revelled in the yelp she made, pinning her down as he aimed another slap at her backside. The sound she made when his palm made contact had the fox licking his lips. She loses count at eleven, numbers blurring into red hot pain and handprints.

Her buttocks were turning pink and tender with hand prints, but she had to bite back a moan when he paused to brush his fingertips over her newly reddened skin.

"Don't relax yet, Banshee. That's nothing compared to what I'll do if you disobey again."

His hand started wandering to the waistband of her underwear, and she bit her lip in anticipation, surprising herself. When he slipped them down to her thighs she couldn't help but let out a throaty moan. It laughed, letting her panties pool around her knees as it ran his fingers over her skin. His fingertips ghosted over her most intimate place, and she threw her head back. The nogitsune took the opportunity to wrap his hand around her throat and pull her upwards, he pressed cool lips to hers in a mockery of affection, then landed another unexpected slap on her backside.

Her skin was still stinging when he pressed the tip of his middle finger to her entrance. He made a satisfied sound as he felt how wet he had made her, gathering it on his fingertip and brushing it all too lightly over her clit. Her body convulsed at his touch, and her head was spinning.

Lydia was elsewhere. She'd left sane miles back and was bordering on losing it.

Void explored her with his finger tips, teasing soft skin and dipping between her wet folds. It was winning, just like it knew it would. With darkness and desire chaos would devour them all until the game was won.

She makes sounds that she'll blush about later, curses him and his hands, and pushes back against his touch. The demon infiltrates her mind through his touch, the pleasure coursing through her is tinged with his manipulation, tainted by his supernatural control. If she were anywhere near reason she'd fight back, but some part of her self she kept locked away had escaped during his sadistic seduction, and it was rushing to meet his fingertips through her skin.

"You play the innocent, Banshee girl. But you know why you give in to me. You know there's something inside you that wants what we offer." Her breathing was ragged, and he landed another red handprint on her backside just to hear the gasp she gave. "You can hide it from them. But the darkness? The hunger you try so hard to conceal? You know I couldn't own you like this with nothing wicked to hold onto. You can't hide it from me," his voice lowered to a whisper, "and you can't hide it from him."

He shifted her off his lap and onto the carpet in front of where he sat. He moved to the edge of the couch, trapping her between his legs and the coffee table. Nogitsune grabbed a fistful of her hair and held her still as it undid his jeans. Lydia wants his hands on her again, so badly she's already leaning closer to give him what he wants, just as void knew she would. She's transfixed, watching him pull down his boxers. It's hard already, she's shocked at how badly she wants it, she's opening her lips for him and leaning in to take him in her mouth. Void lets her get an inch from the tip before holding her still by her hair. She groans, pulling against him, and he laughs when she meets his dark eyes with pleading ones.

"Do you want it, banshee?" She nodded desperately, "ask me, then."

Lydia dug her teeth into her lip, her cheeks turning pinker at his request.

"P-please."

"Please what?"

"Please let me."

"Let you..?" Void is loving this, the game of control is his very favourite. He can taste the red edge of her hunger, a pittance compared to the emptiness within him.

"Let me.. Let me suck it. Please." Her voice is higher than usual, embarrassment and arousal were blending into something intoxicating inside. He's satisfied, and loosens the grip on her hair, groaning as she takes him in her hot mouth.

_"This may be my favourite part of human form."_ Void chided, the boy who's body he stole recoiled deeper within himself, still unable to escape the image of her that nogitsune made sure to force upon him. Her wide eyes blinked up at him, sweet and pleading, and it was a sight he'd imagined a thousand times over, but not like this. He was numb to her warmth, watching something wicked fuck the girl he loves.

Void pushed her away, pulling his shirt up over his head and grinning at her, eyes glowing with mischief and desire. The demon gripped her throat and pulled her up to face him. He pressed his forehead to hers, and for a moment void's grip on her senses is cleared, and she can hear the whiskey-eyed boy calling for her from deep inside.


	11. Chapter 11

Void bathed itself in Stiles's scrambling for the hold of her proximity. Her aura of delicious guilt made nogitsune feel immensely powerful, and keeping the owner of the body from reclaiming it was getting easier and easier. When he was done with this game he would spare this one. He'd have his fun with her mind and body until he's twisted her beyond recognition and she can't live without the chaos either.

Nogitsune span them around and pushed her onto the couch, kneeling between her thighs and gripping her at the hips. Lydia squeezes her eyes shut when he slips his hands under her knees and pulling her thighs up and over his shoulders.

Cold breath on flushed skin made her moan, her soft skin invites his lips, the taste of sweat and need begs for his bite. There'll be bruises soon, void will be sure of it. He'll feel the throb of her emotional disaster every time she spots the purple glowing against the cream. His searching tongue is wet and rather cool, Lydia's breath catches audibly in her throat when it finds her hot furrow.

He runs his tongue over her clit, spreading her to him with his fingers. Her taste seemed to only make him hungrier, but her energy is almost overwhelming even him as it builds. She's on the precipice, the wave is about to break, when he denies her his touch. Her hiss of frustration is music to the nogitsune.

He picked her up like she was weightless and bent her over the arm of the sofa. Lydia no longer cared who or what slated her lust, as long as it was satisfied. When he pressed the tip against her entrance she lifted her hips to meet him. His stillness was torturous for a moment, and she lifted onto her toes to grind herself against him.

The encouragement was enough, and he plunged himself into her so hard their flesh made a sharp slap on impact. She didn't have long to adjust before he did it again, and again, until she's back on that edge and something wicked is stirring in her soul. She cries out pleasure and the darkness rises to the surface, shows beneath her skin. Blue rivers on her translucent skin, for the fraction of a moment, run black. Her clenching around him, quivering beneath his form, pushed him harder and closer to his own completion.

With the last rhythmic thrust into her he grabs a handful of hair and pulls her head back, coaxing another climax from her as he breathed her darkest desires into the electric air. He howls his lust when he comes, presses his chest into her back and muttering profanities into her ear.

Human bodies have their faults, and even void takes a moment of recovery. But soon he straightens himself up and buttons his jeans, pulling a little silver key from a pocket and freeing her sore wrists. The nogitsune goes so far as to hand the banshee her dress as she stumbles about searching for clothes. It watches from beside the window as she dresses, amused.

"When they're all dead I'll keep you." It said with her friend's lips, she can hear the smile though she's facing the other way. Silence is kept, however, so void digs deeper. "I'll change you. I'll bring it out of the dark and you'll thirst for their pain like I do. You're going to like it." The fox closed the gap between them until he was a foot behind her.

Lydia's ears were ringing, his voice amplifying and muting at random. She can't focus on his words, she can hear the all too slow pumping of a still-beating heart. Under it all, almost inaudible, something is whispering to her. The banshee isn't in the room any longer, she's lost everything but herself and the tiny hint of sound. Something soft brushes her cheek, and she spins in the air to see the dangling end of piece of crimson thread, brilliant against the dark emptiness. Her hand glows in front of her eyes when she reaches up to touch the thread. She can't let go, she's rushing upwards faster and faster, the voice is getting clearer and clearer...

"Scream, Lydia. Scream."

The banshee turns to face the demon, a smirk on her lips, the fox reads her face with a knowing snarl but it is too late. The sound shatters the night air, cutting through the darkness like shards of ice. The nogitsune clamps human hands over human ears in a futile attempt to stop the onslaught, but to no avail. This was not a human sound, and miles away wolves rose their heads, eyes already shining. She's a little out of breath when it ends, but exhilarated, the look on his face makes her grin.

"Bitch." Growled the fox, feeling the boy coming to reclaim his bones.

"Really? That's the best you can do?" She replied, watching as his eyes roll back in his skull, and Stiles's body crumples to the ground. Lydia rushes forwards to check on him, the quiet air of intimidation is gone and he looks suddenly very vulnerable. She's slipped a pillow under his head and covered him with a blanket when Scott arrives, Issac not far behind.

"We have got to figure this out." Is the first thing she says, meeting Scott's fearful eyes with ones equally as grave. 

 


End file.
